


By the Light of the Moon

by ereshai



Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Werewolf, Blood and Violence, Getting Together, M/M, Minor Character Death, Murder Mystery, Non-Graphic Violence, Supernatural Elements, Werewolf Hunters
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 20:47:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,507
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23723308
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ereshai/pseuds/ereshai
Summary: Something is stalking the students of Samwell University. Nothing bad happens - until a member of the hockey team turns up dead. Freshman Eric Bittle starts using the campus Safe Walk number to make sure he gets safely back to his dorm at night and gets drawn into the Samwell Men's Hockey team's quest to find their murdered teammate's killer. He understands why they're doing it, but why are they so weird?
Relationships: Eric "Bitty" Bittle/Jack Zimmermann
Comments: 19
Kudos: 115





	By the Light of the Moon

**Author's Note:**

> [Look at the awesome edit by omgtranspoindexter!](https://omgtranspoindexter.tumblr.com/post/615862880354582528/something-is-stalking-the-students-of-samwell)

Samwell campus is spooky at night. Eric shoves his hands in his jacket pockets and hunches his shoulders. As he walks, his footsteps echo slightly, only to be swallowed by the darkness. He turns down Jason Street; the houses are dark and silent here and the streetlights are far apart, the darkness between them almost impenetrable. As he continues, he hears an odd double echo of his steps, but when he stops to look, he can’t see anyone. “Hello?” he calls, raising his voice to keep the tremble out of it. Nothing. He picks up his pace.

Another scrape of a shoe – definitely not his. Eric looks around and finds nothing again. He faces forward and hurries around the corner onto Whitney Avenue, where he runs right into someone and bounces off their back. A tall, athletic someone with brown hair, wearing jeans and a red Samwell Hockey shirt, who is now standing over Eric as he lays on the ground.

“Whoa! You okay?” The vaguely familiar-looking man bends over and holds out his hand.

“I think so.” Eric accepts the helping hand and finds himself being pulled up through the air. Before he’s quite ready, he’s on his feet. He stumbles against the man once more.

“Oops, sorry.” The man puts his hands on Eric’s shoulders to steady him.

“No, no, that was all my fault. I wasn’t looking where I was going.” Eric glances behind himself nervously.

“Something wrong?” The man peers over Eric’s head into the darkness.

“I thought I heard someone following me,” Eric admits. “Just got a little spooked, I guess.”

“I don’t see anyone. But how about I walk you to wherever you’re going?”

“Well, I… uh…” Eric shivers and crosses his arms across his chest.

“I’m harmless, I promise.” The man holds out his hand again. “Cade Wagner. They call me Wags.”

“Oh!” Eric quickly takes the offered handshake. “I thought you looked familiar. Number 3, on the hockey team, right? Y’all take over a whole table at breakfast.”

Wags chuckles. “That’s us. You like hockey?”

“I catch a game now and then. Played some back home, too.”

“They have ice rinks in the South?”

“Yes we do. Don’t you start, Mister Wagner.”

“So anyway, were you heading to the dorms?” He points his thumb back over his shoulder. “’Cause I’m heading that way myself.”

Eric nods. “It isn’t that far now, I should be fine. You don’t-“

“Safety in numbers, right?”

Eric looks around again and shrugs. “All right.” They start walking, only for Eric to stop dead and exclaim, “Where are my manners? I’m Eric. Eric Bittle.”

“Nice to meet you, Eric.” Wags gives Eric a once-over and smiles again.

They start walking, Wags shortening his stride to let Eric keep pace. As they go, they talk about hockey, Samwell, baking, and the local coffee shops. When they reach Eric’s dorm, he promises to bake Wags a thank-you pie.

“Not to toot my own horn, but my pies have won blue ribbons.”

“I bet they’re great. But instead of that, how about you give me your phone number?” Wags asks with a charming smile. “We could get together for coffee at Annie’s some time. Maybe tomorrow?”

“I’d like that,” Eric says, ducking his head.

They exchange numbers and after an awkward pause, Eric darts forward, leans up on his tiptoes and pecks Wags on the cheek. “Bye,” he squeaks and runs inside. When he glances back, Wags is still standing there, watching him with a small smile on his face.

~

_This one doesn’t even look around before I take him down. Dull, like cattle, fit only to be slaughtered. Hardly a challenge._

~

There’s a light fog blanketing the campus, giving the streetlights a misty nimbus. Eric glances up and down the street, then checks his phone. Behind him, Founder’s is a looming edifice. A few of its windows emit a feeble light which does nothing to relieve the gloom.

Eric puts his phone away and when he looks up again, there are two large men in front of him. He yelps and scrambles back toward the door, trying to get back into the library. It’s locked.

“Fuck, I think we scared him,” one of them says. He’s the shorter of the two, with brown hair down to his shoulders and a full mustache. He’s dressed in a tank top, boxers decorated with hearts, and flip flops. At least his friend is dressed for the weather in a Samwell sweatshirt, jeans, and boots. “Don’t have a coronary, little dude. We’re here to save you.”

“I’m average height,” Eric snaps. He’s flattened against the door, but he takes a step away and adjusts his backpack. He grips the strap, his knuckles white.

“That’s what you’re focusing on?” Mustache asks, a friendly smile on his face. “No questions about the saving thing?”

“I presume,” Eric says, pulling out his phone and waggling it at them, “y’all are part of the Safe Walk program? I wasn’t expecting more than one of you.”

“Safety in numbers.” Mustache shrugs. Eric looks at him sharply.

“Wait a minute. You look familiar. Are y’all on the hockey team? Like Wag-” He breaks off and bites his lip.

“That we are, average dude,” Mustache answers, now slightly subdued.

“Our teammate, Wags. Cade Wagner.” The other man, with short black hair and piercing blue eyes, finally speaks up. “You were with him the night he went missing.”

“How did you know? I mean, I just met him that night. He said he would- Well, then I heard he went missing,” Eric says, shaking his head. “I can’t believe…”

“It’s a fucking tragedy,” Mustache growls. “Sorry, du- What’s your name?”

Eric just looks at him.

“I can keep calling you dude. Unless you want something less gender-specific. Whatever works for you.”

“Eric,” he answers faintly. “Bittle.”

“Okay, Eric. You were right. We’re with Safe Walk and we’re going to make sure you get safely home, okay? My name’s Shitty, by the way.”

“Shitty,” Eric says flatly. “Are you being serious right now?”

“Completely and totally,” Shitty replies. “This beaut next to me is Jack.” He points to Blue Eyes, who glares.

“Nice to meet you.” Eric clears his throat. “I’m real sorry about Wags. He was nice to me. We were going to get coffee, but he never called… And then I saw on the news that someone found his bod- um, found him.”

“He walked you to your dorm,” Jack breaks in. “Where did he go from there?”

“How did you- I have no idea. He was standing right outside last I saw him.” Eric looks between the two of them and takes a small step back. “What’s this about? I already spoke to the police. If y’all think-“

“I don’t. Let’s go. We’re taking you home.” Jack turns abruptly and starts walking toward the dorms.

Eric looks at Shitty. “I’m a little confused.”

“It looks like we’re taking you home,” Shitty says with a bow, flinging his arm out in the direction Jack had gone. “After you, little Bittle.”

Bitty snorts as he walks past Shitty. “I told you-“

“You’re average-sized.” Shitty hurries to catch up to him and they walk side by side. “Bittles? Rhymes with Skittles, which are fucking ‘swawesome.”

“What’s wrong with my given name?”

“I am only able to establish bonds of friendship, especially with my fellow males, through the use of slightly insulting but affectionate nicknames. Is that a no on Bittles?”

“That’s a no. We’re gonna be friends, huh?”

“Fuck yeah we are. I like you, Bitty.” Shitty bumps Eric’s shoulder with his own. “Oh fuck, that’s it. Bitty.”

Eric looks at Shitty from the corner of his eye. “That’s not too bad, I guess.”

“Not too bad? It’s fucking ‘swawesome.” Shitty holds out his fist. Eric hesitates, then bumps it. “Welcome to Samwell.”

“Thanks. But I have been here for months, you know.”

“Now you’re official, brah. C’mon, let’s catch up to Jack.” Shitty lengthens his stride and Eric hurries to keep up.

“What about Jack?” he asks, panting slightly. “What’s his nickname?”

Shitty shakes his head. “Jack defies nicknaming. I had to establish our bond of friendship through naked cuddling. Gotta overturn that fucking patriarchal heteronormativity.”

“I see,” Eric says. “Well, I’m glad we found me a nickname, then.”

They catch up to Jack at Eric’s dorm, where he’s standing with his arms folded across his chest.

“I’d like to thank y’all for walking me home,” Eric begins.

“Leave earlier next time,” Jack says, and he walks away.

“Don’t hesitate to call if you need us. You might get someone from a different team, but Safe Walk is guaranteed LAX bro free,” Shitty says. He grabs Eric’s hand and lifts it close to his face, kissing the air above it.

“You stop that,” Eric says with a laugh as he yanks his hand away.

“It’s all part of the service we provide. Farewell, fair Bitty.” With a jaunty salute, Shitty turns and leaves.

“It was interesting meeting y’all,” Eric yells after them. He takes a quick look around, then hurries inside.

~

_They’re traveling in packs now. As if that will stop me. I know how to be patient._

~

Eric hurries along the path. Alone on the dark Samwell campus again. What had he been thinking?

The path branches off into two directions and Eric stops. Which way? He’s been on this path plenty of times, but for the life of him he can’t remember which way will take him back to his dorm. He pushes the hood of his jacket off of his head and takes his phone out of his pocket. A branch snaps somewhere behind him and he jumps. He waits, but nothing happens.

Before he can pull up the map app on his phone, he sees a group of four people walking toward him on the right-hand path. They’re laughing and shoving each other playfully. Eric takes a deep breath and fights the urge to hide. There’s no reason to believe they would prank him or hang him from a lamppost by his underwear or-

“Bitty, is that you?” one of the laughing boys says as they get closer, and Eric recognizes Shitty as he walks under a street lamp.

“I am so happy to see you,” he blurts out. “I got myself all turned around and I was going to text the Safe Walk number but I don’t even know where I am so how could I tell anyone where to come find me and if I did figure it out I could just walk myself on home and-”

“Easy there, pardner,” the tallest of the group says jovially. “You’re going to pass out from lack of oxygen if you don’t stop for a breath every once in a while.”

Eric takes a deep breath and nods. “Yes. Thank you.”

“You’re in luck, Bitty,” Shitty says. “We have just finished escorting other Safe Walk clients and we are now free to take you home.” He bows with a flourish and Eric chuckles. “Let me introduce you to my companions.”

“What is with the courtly gentleman talk, bro?” the second tallest of the group says.

“I am but a gallant knight,” Shitty exclaims, and the rest of them hoot in derision while Eric just stands there, confused. “So, Bitty, these two jokers are Holster and Ransom.” The two who had spoken raise their hands in unison. Eric has no idea what name goes with which person and it’s dark enough the only way to distinguish them is their height. “And this is Johnson, our goalie,” Shitty continues, indicating the last member of the group. 

Johnson nods, his face lost in the shadows of his hoodie, and says, “This is different, isn’t it? Now I have no idea who’ll get my dibs at the end of the year. If we even get that far along in the story.”

Nobody reacts to Johnson’s strange words, so Eric does the same. Everyone knows that goalies are weird. “So, you’re all hockey players then?”

“That we are, Bitty, that we are,” Holster or Ransom says.

“My name is actually Eric,” Eric says, almost apologetically. They all shrug at him.

“We’ve got to establish the use of your nickname so the narrative can use it organically,” Johnson says incomprehensibly.

Shitty’s phone jingles a notification. He reads what’s on the screen and says, “We’ve got a live one, boys. Another freshman needs help getting home from the party house on Bristol.”

“We should split up. Ransom and Holster will walk Bitty home. There’s already been a scene with Shitty and I’m just a cameo character.” Johnson pats Ransom and Holster’s shoulders. “Don’t worry, boys, you aren’t on the menu.”

“Until next time,” Shitty says with a shrug, and he and Johnson start walking back the way they had come. 

That left Eric staring at Ransom and Holster. “He’s a bit...odd, huh?”

The taller of the two nods. “Even for a goalie.”

“I’m sorry, but which one are you again? You were introduced so quickly.” 

“Holster. Also known as Adam Birkholtz.” He steps forward to shake Bitty’s hand. He’s tall with blonde hair.

Eric turns to the other man. “And that means you’re Ransom.”

Ransom nods. He has dark hair and eyes and cheekbones that could cut glass. “Justin Oluransi. We should get going. You’re in the freshman dorms?”

“I sure am.”

Holster leads the way, following the same path Shitty and Johnson had taken. 

“So, Bitty, what brings you out so late at night?” Ransom asks. “Hot date? Epic kegster?”

“Goodness, no.” Eric hurries to keep up with Holster and Ransom’s longer strides. “Nothing that exciting. Just working late, I’m afraid.”

“Better get your partying in while you still can,” Holster says. “I heard they’re thinking of instituting a curfew.”

“Oh. Because of… because of Wags?” Eric asks, subdued.

“And all those idiot freshmen they’ve been finding passed out on Lake Quad,” Ransom adds. “Of course they all swear they weren’t drinking.”

“They weren’t all idiot freshmen. It happened to March, and you know her team wouldn’t let her just wander off all wasted. Something weird is going on. Aside from Wags getting killed.”

Holster’s voice is low and hard, and Eric is glad he’s walking next to Ransom. “I was real sorry to hear about Wags,” he says tentatively. 

“I can’t wait to show that murdering asshole what happens when there’s more than one of us,” Holster growls. “He won’t find it so easy to chop off _our_ heads.”

Eric raises a hand to his mouth. “Chop off- What?”

“Whoever killed him cut off his head.” Holster’s words are hard and bitter.

Eric stops and sways on unsteady legs. “Cut off his head,” he repeats slowly.

“You didn’t know about that part?” Ransom speaks gently.

Eric shakes his head. 

“We shouldn’t stand around,” Holster says after a few moments. “I mean, Johnson said we weren’t on the menu, which might mean we’re safe, but it might mean something else completely.”

Ransom nods. “Dude’s weird, but he knows stuff.” He put a hand on Eric’s shoulder. “You good, man?”

Eric takes a deep breath. “Let’s go. I don’t want to keep you boys out here any longer than I have to.”

The rest of the walk to Eric’s dorm is entirely silent.

~

_Two or ten or even twenty, they cannot keep me from fulfilling my purpose._

~

Eric wanders through the crowded rooms of the frat house, trying to keep his drink from getting knocked right out of his hands. What on earth had possessed him to come tonight? 

Well, he knows the answer to that. He hasn’t connected with any of his fellow freshman - between classes and his job and his coursework, he doesn’t have time to join any of the social clubs on campus (there’s no baking club, so he doesn’t even try to make time) - and sometimes a body just needs to mingle. Even if it’s with about a hundred drunk strangers.

“They call this tub juice?” a familiar voice rises above the noise. “This is why we should never party anywhere but the Haus. Ugh, are there LAX bros here?”

“I don’t think the Haus can take too many kegsters, Shits.” Eric can barely hear the response, but he thinks he knows that voice, too. Jack. What is the hockey team doing at a party that isn’t their own? They are notorious for their kegsters, if the Swallow can be believed, as well as for snubbing all other parties as inferior.

The press of the crowd carries him away before he can decide if he wants to say hi. Shitty had been friendly enough, if strange, but Jack had made his opinion of Eric very clear. He’s really not in the mood to be glared at, no matter how beautiful the eyes doing the glaring happen to be. Like a wolf’s eyes, he muses, then puts the matter firmly from his mind. He has no business thinking of Jack like that.

He definitely isn’t thinking of Jack when a junior with pretty blue eyes (not quite the right shade) pulls him into a crowd of dancing couples. Well, dancing in that they’re all swaying to the music as much as they can. The space is so small, Eric can tell the girl behind him is wearing a g-string, and it’s not because he can see it peeking out of the top of her waistband. He can’t even see her. 

When he’s had enough, Eric escapes the crowd. His dancing partner follows, and he’s not sure how he feels about that. He drinks from his cup and grimaces at the taste. The stuff is barely drinkable when it’s cold; when it’s warm it tastes like it could peel paint.

They find a secluded hallway and Eric lets the other man crowd him against the wall. He wonders what kissing another man feels like. He thinks he’ll like it. His partner leans forward, his breath hot in Eric’s face, and Eric changes his mind abruptly. He’s not going to like it with this particular person. Eric shoves the man away and he stumbles back until he runs into another partygoer.

“Hey, it’s okay, baby,” the man slurs.

“Time to go now,” Eric says loudly.

“Time to go?” The man blinks like an owl. “Oh, okay. Bye.” With that, he leaves, swaying a bit as he makes his way down the hallway.

“I guess you didn’t need any help,” the partygoer says, and Eric finds himself face-to-face with Jack.

“Oh.” Eric blinks. “No, I guess not.”

Jack leans against the opposite wall and crosses his arms. “Going back to the party?”

“I’m taking a break.” Eric mirrors Jack’s pose. “I was surprised to see you here tonight.”

“Yeah, I don’t really like parties. Too crowded and loud.”

“But you’re here.”

“I am.” 

Conversing with Jack is worse than pulling teeth, but Eric doesn’t feel like leaving. He doesn’t want Jack to leave either. Apparently, he’s a fool for a pretty face.

“So. Hockey.” That’s a safe topic, right? “Y’all are on a winning streak.”

“No.”

Eric blinks at his abrupt tone. “You’re… not on a winning streak?”

“I’m not- I don’t want to talk about hockey right now.” With that, Jack shoves away from the wall and stalks away. Eric follows him through the crowded rooms and right out the front door.

Once Jack reaches the sidewalk, he stops and gives his head a sharp shake, as if clearing it. Then he looks around, his head tilted like he’s listening.

“Looking for something?” Eric stays a few feet away - he doesn’t want to get in the way of whatever it is that Jacks’ doing.

“Wags went missing after a party like this. I thought maybe…”

Eric wraps his arms around himself. “You think the killer is still around? You think they might try ag-”

“It’s my job to look out for my pa- team. I failed Wags. I’m not going to let it happen to anyone else.” Jack turns to Eric. “If you’re done here, I’ll walk you home.”

“All right. I don’t feel much like partying anyway.”

Eric had been expecting a long, silent walk. While it is long, it’s far from silent. Despite his earlier reluctance to talk about hockey, Jack tells him several amusing stories about the team. Shitty likes to be naked as often as possible, even in the dead of winter, which explains his attire the first time Eric had met him. Ransom and Holster insist on stuffing every new member of the team into a hockey bag - so far no one has fit. Johnon is apparently so inexplicable that Jack can’t even finish a story about him without saying ‘You had to be there’. The whole team sounds like one big happy family. It makes Eric’s heart all warm and tingly, and maybe ache just a little.

“...and the goose chased the whole team for an entire block. You’d think a pack of,” Jack looks at Eric, “big strong hockey players could handle one goose. But we ran like a bunch of frightened rabbits.”

“That was smart. Geese are vicious.” Eric smiles. Jack is fun to talk to once he unbends a little. They meander to a stop and Eric looks up to see his dorm. “Oh, here we are.”

Jack nods. “I’ll, uh, I’ll see you. Later.” 

“Thanks for walking me home,” Eric says brightly. 

“You’re out at night a lot. Remember to call us.”

“I sure will.” Jack nods and turns to leave. “Wait,” Eric says quickly, “should _you_ be walking alone?”

“Don’t worry, Bittle, there’s someone I can call if I don’t feel safe walking alone.” Jack holds up his phone and wiggles it at him. “There’s this program called Safe Walk. Maybe you’ve heard of it.”

“Well ha ha.” He waves. “You be safe now, all right?”

“Bye, Bittle.”

Eric watches Jack walk away until the phrase ‘hate to see you go, love to watch you leave’ occurs to him and he cannot be that person. He’s got to nip this in the bud. At least he’s not super likely to get Jack the next time he uses Safe Walk. He hopes.

~

_I know a trap when I see one. I won’t be caught so easily._

~

Tempt fate, and fate will strike you down, Eric tells himself when Jack is the one who shows up to walk him home after his evening shift at the Stop N Shop. Well, Jack and Shitty, and if he had spent any time thinking about it instead of the sight of Jack’s rear end in his jeans, he would have realized they probably had set shifts for Safe Walk. 

“We meet again, fair Bitty,” Shitty exclaims. 

“Hey, y’all.” He waves to his coworker and the three of them set off. It’s not as cold tonight, but both Jack and Shitty are underdressed according to Eric’s Southern sensibilities. 

“Hey, isn’t this the Stop N Shop where the guy got murdered a few years ago?” Shitty asks.

Eric does not dignify that with an answer, because he does not know. At least it doesn’t stink like the other one near campus. He is so thankful he doesn’t have to work there. “Aren’t y’all freezing?” he says instead.

“I’ve got my love to keep me warm,” Shitty says, jumping onto Jack’s back. Jack laughs and grabs his legs to steady him.

“We spend a lot of time on the ice. We’re used to the cold, eh?” Jack says.

“Look at this beaut.” Shitty clutches Jack’s shoulders. “So strong. I’m going to swoon.”

“Ha ha, knock it off, Shits.” Jack drops Shitty’s legs and Shitty jumps off his back. 

“You should give Bitty a ride,” Shitty says, nudging Jack’s side. “He’s had a long day, he needs to give his feet a rest.”

Eric stops breathing for a moment. “That’s not necessary,” he says, his voice pitched slightly higher than usual. 

Jack looks at him, considering. “You aren’t as heavy as Shitty. I could get you back to your dorm, no problem.”

“Heavy?” Shitty gasps. “Heavy as a feather, you mean. A gust of wind would blow me away.”

Jack smiles and starts to respond, but then his head swivels around. “What’s that?”

“What?” Eric asks, but Shitty flaps his hand at him, staring in the same direction as Jack.

Jack breaks into a run, Shitty right behind him. Eric struggles to keep up, but they outpace him easily. Fortunately for him, they stop before he completely loses sight of them.

Someone is lying in the grass, not far from the sidewalk, somewhat hidden by a screen of bushes. Jack kneels next to the person and checks their pulse. Eric can’t tell if they’re breathing. A froth of bubbles dribbles from their mouth.

“Call 911,” Jack commands, and Eric quickly pulls out his phone. 

He relays all the information he can to the operator while Jack and Shitty take turns doing chest compressions. They keep it up until the ambulance arrives and the EMTs take over. Eventually the person is wheeled away on a gurney and loaded into the ambulance, leaving Jack, Shitty and Eric to finish up with the police officer who had arrived not long after the ambulance.

“You did well tonight, boys,” the officer says once they’re done. He flips his notepad closed. 

“What do you think happened to him?” Jack asks, but Eric gets a strange impression that Jack already knows and he’s only asking to keep up appearances.

“Hard to say. Could be an illness or an allergic reaction. Could be an OD.” The officer shrugs.

“Is there any way you could let us know if he makes it?” Shitty asks.

“I’ll see what I can do.” The officer doesn’t sound very hopeful, but Jack and Shitty nod. “I can see about getting you boys a ride home.”

“That’s okay,” Jack says. “We don’t have that far to go. And we’re with Safe Walk, we should be fine.”

“All right, boys. You go straight home, no detours. Got it?” With that, the officer leaves.

“But the dorms are-” Eric begins.

“You’re coming back to the Haus with us,” Jack says firmly, and Eric doesn’t dare contradict him. He doesn’t want to be alone right now anyway.

The walk to the infamous Haus is subdued. Although it’s late, the first floor is all lit up, and when Shitty opens the door and walks in, he immediately yells, “Your fearless leaders have arrived.”

Ransom, Holster, and Johnson file into the entryway, followed by a handful of unfamiliar faces.

“Guys, this is Bitty. Bitty, you’ve met Ransom, Holster, and Johnson. I’m not going to introduce you to the rest of these lunkheads, because it’s fucking late and we have practice in the morning.” Shitty says the last part meaningfully, causing the unknown players to file out the door. Each of them say good night as they leave, and Jack nods in acknowledgement every time.

“Everything all right?” Ransom asks once they’re gone, and Shitty shakes his head.

“We’ll fill you in after we get Bitty settled in for the night.” Jack looks at the group. “What are our options?”

“The couch?” Holster says.

“Bitty won’t sleep on the couch.” Johnson says it like he’s making an official pronouncement. If they’re talking about the vile green piece of furniture he can see in the living room, Bitty agrees.

“There’s no spare bed,” Ransom says.

“He’ll sleep in my bed,” Jack says, and everyone freezes like he’s just told them he has a fatal illness. “I’ll share with Shitty.”

Jack shows him to his room. If Bitty hadn’t been so turned around by the night’s events, he might have looked around a little. As it is, he merely accepts the sleep shirt Jack gives him and says good night. In a matter of minutes, he’s changed out of his clothes and snuggled under the covers of Jack’s bed.

Despite his exhaustion, he can’t fall asleep. He can hear a murmur of voices in another room, though he can’t quite make out what they’re saying. He drifts, half asleep. Someone passes by the door.

“...aconite poisoning, are they sure…” 

The words follow Bitty into sleep and twist through his dreams. He wakes before dawn, barely feeling rested, and gets dressed as quietly as he can. He writes a note for Jack and leaves it on his bedside table, then carefully makes his way downstairs and out the door. 

He looks back and sees Jack watching him from a window on the second floor. He raises his hand in farewell, and Jack waves back.

Bitty hurries home as the sky slowly brightens.

~

_Now they know what I can do to them._

~

Bitty steps out of the store and takes a look around. The parking lot is almost deserted; it’s full of eerie shadows. He checks his phone, then taps out a quick text. He leans against the rough brick wall and crosses his arms, his bag of groceries dangling from one hand.

A line of cars full of yelling frat boys drives past. A beer bottle flies out of one of the windows and smashes on the sidewalk in front of the store. Bitty watches until they’re out of sight, then sidles away from the brightly lit windows of the storefront, settling instead in the shadows pooled along the side of the building. He shivers.

It’s quiet, except for the occasional car. Bitty pulls out his phone to check the time and something rustles behind him, like dried leaves under someone’s foot. He flinches and whirls around, eyes wide. “Hello?”

“Yo, Bitty, you around?” a voice calls from the sidewalk.

Bitty squeaks and hurries toward the speaker. “Hi! Yes, I’m here.”

“Hey,” Holsters says with a broad smile. “Out late again?”

“Fourth time this week,” Ransom adds. “I thought they were moving you to days. You getting enough sleep?”

“I’m fine, thank you for asking,” Bitty answers primly. He glances back at the dark area he’d just left.

“Something wrong?” Holster asks, staring intently into the shadows.

“No, nothing,” Bitty says. Ransom and Holster just look at him. “I thought I heard something, that’s all. I’m sure it’s nothing.”

Holster and Ransom exchange a look, then Holster disappears into the darkness. Ransom sticks close to Bitty.

“Ransom?” Bitty asks, but Ransom just shakes his head. His eyes are trained on the spot where Holster disappeared, his head tilted as if he’s listening for something. It reminds Bitty of Jack for some reason.

Holster returns after several tense minutes. He shrugs at Ransom, his face set in a scowl. “Let’s go,” he snarls.

Bitty gives them a suspicious look. “What’s going on?”

“Just walking you home,” Ransom says quickly. “We should get on that.”

Bitty ignores him. “Are y’all- are y’all still looking for the person who killed Wags?”

“We’re walking you home,” Holster says firmly. “Anything else that might happen tonight is a bonus.”

“That’s dangerous,” Bitty insists loudly, then continues more quietly, “y’all could get _hurt_.”

“Don’t worry about us, Bitty,” Ransom says soothingly. “We’re tougher than we look.”

“And we haven’t found a trace of him anyway,” Holster grumps. “Or what’s going on with all those missing students.”

“Missing students?” Bitty squeaks.

“They don’t stay missing,” Ransom told him. “C’mon, we shouldn’t be standing here. We can walk and talk at the same time.”

“Can we, Justin? Can we?” Holster snarks, but he herds them along in the direction of Bitty’s dorm.

“What’s this about missing students?” Bitty demands.

“They don’t stay missing,” Ransom repeats. “It’s more like an overnight thing, and they don’t remember where they’ve been.”

“And they’re mostly not the partying type, so it’s noticeable,” Holster adds. ”It’s weird, and anything out of place needs to be investigated, because it could be related to what happened to Wags. No matter what Jack says,” he mutters.

“Are they okay?” Bitty asks. He bites at his lower lip. “The students?”

“Yeah, they just had bad hangovers, or something similar,” Ransom reassures him. “They spend a day or two in bed and then they’re back in class like it was nothing.”

“That’s good,” Bitty mumbles. “At least they’re not dead?” 

Holster claps him on the back, nearly knocking him over. “That’s the spirit, Bitty!”

“Look, maybe whoever killed Wags was just passing through,” Bitty says, a little desperately. 

“No, he’s still here,” Ransom says grimly. “We’re just having a little trouble tracking him.”

Holster mutters something that sounds like ‘mountain ash’, which makes no sense to Bitty, so as he usually does with many of the things the hockey team does or says around him, he ignores it.

“Tracking him?”

Ransom and Holster ignore the question and start bugging him about his courses (going as well as can be expected) and his romantic prospects (none). Thankfully they reach his dorm before Bitty has to figure out how to tactfully turn down Ransom’s offer to set him up with someone on the rugby team. Again.

Before they leave him, Holster pulls him aside. “I’m not gonna tell you how to live your life, Bitty, but maybe you should stay home at night a little more? Something is going on and we may not be able to get to you in time if something happens to you.”

Bitty nods. “I’ll see what I can do. I’m not always out because I want to be.”

Holster sighs. “Stay safe, yeah?”

“I will.” With that, Bitty goes inside. He pauses to watch through the window as they walk away, a fond smile on his lips. It’s been a long time since someone has tried to look out for him like that. He realizes that somewhere along the line, he’d started thinking of himself as ‘Bitty’ instead of ‘Eric’, and he’s all right with that. He hadn’t been expecting to find that kind of friendship here, but he’s glad he has.

~

_Just a little closer. Soon I’ll have them right where I want them._

~

Jack is waiting for Bitty after work. 

“Well, hey,” Bitty says, smiling. “I don’t think I called Safe Walk, did I?”

“No. I knew you were working tonight, so I thought I would just walk you home.” Jack shrugs. 

“Sure, I’d like that.” Bitty tries not to think the word ‘date’. That way lies heartache, he knows it, but he still can’t stop himself.

They take the long way, more a tour of the campus than anything. Jack shows him Faber, the ice rink - closed, of course. They walk past bars full of people and loud music, and dark storefronts with colorful ads in the windows, their bright colors washed out by the street lights. It’s Samwell in a way Bitty has never seen it. It’s lovely, and Bitty honestly doesn’t know if it’s the campus itself, or the company.

They pass an all-night diner, and Bitty suggests they take a break. Inside, the waitress greets them with a tired smile, which gets a little brighter when they only order coffee. There’s one person sitting at a booth - a student, judging by the books and papers spread out on the table. Muzak plays quietly over the speakers, just loud enough to cut what would be an oppressive silence. They can hear the clatter of dishes from the kitchen.

They sit quietly until they get their coffee. Bitty adds a little cream and sugar to his, but Jack drinks his black. Bitty makes a face at him.

“I don’t know how anyone can stand black coffee. Why do you hate joy?”

“Joy isn’t part of my programming,” Jack says in a robotic voice.

Bitty just looks at him, unsure what to say to that.

“Sorry. I’m usually pretty focused on hockey. Sometimes the guys call me a hockey robot.” He shrugs.

“I can’t say I’ve seen that side of you,” Bitty says mildly.

“Yeah, it’s been kind of…I don’t know, lately.” Jack shrugs again.

“It sure has.” Bitty takes a sip of his coffee, then says, “I used to play a little hockey myself, back in high school.”

“High school in...the South?” Jack raises a disbelieving eyebrow at him.

“Yes, in Georgia. Ice rinks do exist there.”

Jack smiles and starts to take another sip of his coffee, but stops abruptly. “Oh. I meant to tell you sooner. That person we found. The other night. He’s recovering in the hospital.”

“Oh, that is a relief. Do they know what happened to him?”

“The police didn’t say.” Jack avoids his eyes and Bitty thinks once again that Jack knows more than he’s saying, though he doesn’t know what makes him think that.

They chat for a while, about hockey, their classes, the team, hockey, pie, Bitty’s job, and hockey. Neither of them mentions their families.

Eventually Jack pays for their coffee and they continue on their way to Bitty’s dorm. It’s late - or early, depending on what time they have to get up. They aren’t talking, but it isn’t an awkward silence. Jack is smiling a little, and Bitty just knows he’s got a silly grin on his own face.

A man steps out onto the path in front of them. He just stands there, looking at them.

“Hello?” Bitty says, but Jack grabs his arm and pulls Bitty behind him.

“What do you want?” Jack demands. Bitty hasn’t heard that tone since the night they first met.

“Oh, I think you know,” the man says, taunting. “I’m here to rid this place of you and your kind.”

“Is he with the Westboro Baptist Church or something?” Bitty whispers to Jack. He doesn’t think they have a militant arm of homophobes, but this man doesn’t look like a typical protester either.

Jack shakes his head and the man pulls out a large hunting knife. “I’ve been looking forward to this, mongrel.”

“What is going on?” Bitty cries, but they ignore him.

“Leave him out of this, hunter,” Jack says. He’s holding Bitty firmly behind him and backing up slowly.

“I’m not interested in him. Unless you’ve brought him into your pack. But he can run,” the hunter says with a shrug. “I can always find him after I take care of the rest of your dogs.”

“Bitty, run.” Jack shoves Bitty back and launches himself at the hunter. He’s moving impossibly fast, but the hunter manages to evade the swipe of his claws.

Claws?

What is going on?

Bitty looks around, but they’re in the middle of campus and every building is dark. He could run for help. Call the police. Bitty pulls out his phone, but he doesn’t make the call.

Jack is circling the hunter. His hands definitely have claws and his face… Bitty isn’t sure what’s going on with his face, but it reminds him of that old show, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. But Jack can’t be a vampire.

The hunter slices at Jack with his knife, and Jack jumps out of range. 

“That’s right, monster. You don’t want to meet my little friend up close and personal, do you? I’ve coated it with my own special blend of wolfsbane and mistletoe.”

Jack snarls and swipes at him again, but he’s too far away. The hunter laughs.

Wolfsbane? Looking at Jack, at his transformed face, his fangs and his claws, Bitty comes to a ridiculous, but somehow logical, conclusion. 

Jack’s a werewolf.

Is everyone on the team a werewolf? He’s inclined to think they are. Bitty takes a chance and sends a vaguely worded text to Shitty.

He can run, like Jack wants him to, but Bitty can’t leave him. He can’t do much of anything to help, but he can make sure he’s not completely alone. Bitty knows Jack, has seen how he behaves and how he treats those around him, and he’s ready to believe Jack’s the good guy, not a man who immediately pulls a knife on someone and looks gleeful at the thought of killing.

Jack tackles the hunter and the knife goes flying. While the two men grapple on the ground, Bitty rushes over and picks up the knife, then retreats to a safe distance. Lord knows what other weapons the hunter is carrying, but at least he won’t have this one anymore.

The hunter takes something out of a pocket and throws it in Jack’s face. A powdery substance shimmers in the air. The angle is bad and most of it misses Jack, but he reels back. He blinks and shakes his head. The hunter gets to his knees and punches him. Jack reacts instinctively, striking out with one hand.

His claws catch the hunter on the shoulder. The hunter screams, and hits Jack again. Jack roars and claws at the hunter, shredding his jacket and the flesh underneath it..

”I’ll...fucking...kill...you,” the hunter grits out between clenched teeth. 

“No,” Jack growls. He backs away, panting and rubbing his face.

The hunter staggers to his feet and searches the ground frantically. He sneers when he sees Bitty and runs at him.

Jack jumps on the hunter’s back and wraps an arm around his neck. The hunter pulls at his arm, but he can’t budge it. Jack jerks the hunter’s head sharply to the side. The hunter immediately goes limp. Jack lets his body fall to the ground.

Everything stops.

Bitty’s phone chimes a notification. He drops the knife that’s still in his hand and retrieves his phone.

“Shitty’s on his way. I, uh, texted him a bit ago,” Bitty says quietly. 

Jack nods, then bows his head, just standing over the hunter’s body. Bitty isn’t close enough to know for sure, but the angle of the hunter’s neck makes it hard to think he could still be alive. Even if he is, the alarming amount of blood pooling under his body means he can’t last much longer.

Bitty goes to stand next to Jack. Jack looks at him, his eyes wide and scared.

“Bitty, I had to.” He holds up his bloody hands, his fingernails blunt - human - once more.

“I know.” Bitty gingerly takes one of Jack’s hands in his. “I know, honey.”

“I’m not dangerous, I swear. Not to you.” Jack is holding himself very still, as if that will prove his words are true.

A drop of blood trickles down Jack’s wrist. Bitty wipes it off with one finger and holds it up in front of his face. He studies it for a moment, then puts it in his mouth. He sucks it clean, then pulls it out with a tiny pop. “Oh, honey. I’m not worried about it.” He smiles at Jack, showing off his own set of fangs.

~

**Epilogue**

“But you can go out in the sunlight,” Holster says for the third time.

“That’s right,” Bitty says with a sigh.

“Huh.” Holster thinks that over for a bit. “So, do you sparkle?”

Bitty glares. “I do not.”

“Then how-”

“With the right preparations, I can be out during the day for short periods of time. Just enough to get to my classes and to work. It’s better if it’s overcast.”

“What about all the coffee you drink? Do you spike it with blood? What about all those pies? Do you spike _them_ with blood? Have I been ingesting blood without my consent? What the hell, Bitty!”

Bitty holds up his hand to stop the frantic spill of questions. “I bake the pies, but I can’t eat them. I promise there’s no blood in them, unless it’s specifically called for in the recipe. Which it hasn’t been,” he adds when Holster’s eyes widen. “Yes, it’s a thing, no I still can’t eat it. As for the coffee, no I don’t spike that with blood either. I can have it in small amounts. That’s true of almost any beverage.”

“Hmm. Okay. So how old are you?” Holster says. “A hundred? Two hundred?”

“Eighteen.”

“Eighteen hundred?” 

“Years. Eighteen years. Why else would I be going to college?”

“I don’t know, to keep up with the modern world? I don’t know how vampires do things.”

Bitty sighs. He’s been doing a lot of sighing lately. “Pretty much like anyone else, we use the internet. I just didn’t want to miss out on what I would have had if I hadn’t been turned.”

“So if you’re not hundreds of years old, you probably don’t have a hoard of money. How the hell are you paying for college? Stop N Shop doesn’t pay enough for that.”

“My sire is taking care of it. I work at the Stop N Shop for spending money.” Bitty understands Holster’s incessant curiosity - he’d badgered the whole pack with his own questions - but he’s starting to get annoyed.

“Holster, that’s enough,” Jack interrupts as he enters the room.. 

Holster throws up his hands. “Fine. But I’ll have more questions later.”

Bitty shakes his head as Holster leaves the room, then he smiles up at Jack.

“Hey, Bits. Want to go for coffee?”

“I would love to.”

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> This is late (by a day), but I'm still considering this a success, because I haven't written anything in months.


End file.
